


You Bring Me Home

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, OT5, anddd smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: “Lou, I bet you are the most bravest boy in the whole town.” Louis can still hear his mama screaming for his daddy, and his arm still really hurts, but something about the way Harry says it makes everything feel a whole lot better.When Louis is nine years old, he earns himself  a cast, three whole weeks grounded from tv (especially Superman), and an addiction to impressing Harry Styles.





	You Bring Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Totally self indulgent. My bad.

Louis’s mama gets her first gray hair when he’s nine years old. 

 

The asphalt roof on the detached garage is smelly and sticks a little to the soles of his worn out sneakers. With his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth in concentration, he wiggles his big toe experimentally against the hole that’s forming there. Mamas been begging him to wear the new pair she bought in town three weeks ago. But, those don’t have velcro, and even though he can do a loopty loop knot now, velcro is faster and makes a cool noise. So, it’s in his old, worn out sneakers that he rocks forward slightly on his toes and shields his eyes from the hot, South Carolina sun. It’s up high in the sky; in a much different position than it was this morning when Harry had come knocking on the screen door asking for Louis to come catch frogs in the creek. Harry mimics the gesture, staring up at him from the front lawn. All of seven years old, pigeon toed and covered in the type of  mud and dirt that signifies a day well spent playing. He doesn’t look to be so sure about this. 

“I don’t know, Lou.” For reasons he’ll not understand or even have the inclination to wonder about for years, Harry’s voice  always makes him smile. They’re best buds in the whole wide world and it doesn’t even matter that Harry is so much younger ; two whole years younger. But, he is a little bit of a ‘fraidy cat. “That sure seems like big drop to me.” The way he drags out the vowel in “big” makes Louis giggle. 

He adjusts his cape, fashioned from his daddy’s belt and his mama’s drapes that they found hanging on the drying line out back. It is pretty high up, but he’s seen this on t.v. They wouldn’t show it on t.v. if it didn’t work. This cape is sure to make him fly. He’ll probably look cooler than superman too. 

“Haz, I’m telling you. You gotta stop worrying all the time!” He clucks his tongue and shimmies down the roof a bit, getting into a better position for optimum take off. He’s heard that on t.v. too, so he might not be sure what it means, but he's willing to bet dollars to doughnuts it’s good. “What do I always tell ya  Haz?” 

Harry is moving on the ground as well, side stepping along with Louis. As if he could catch him if he fell. 

He huffs a little before giving Louis his answer in a small voice, hands on his hips.

“You always says, ‘You’re gonna get an ulcer Haz and no one wants an ulcer Haz.’ I know Lou.” 

He sounds a little grumpy, like he does when Louis forgets to bring the lid for the lightning bug jar and they’ve wasted all that time collecting them, for them all to fly away again. And Louis bets he is, because he's looking down at his sneakers and scuffing them on the grass. 

“Well, Haz. You gonna count or what?” At the change of subject, Harry’s head snaps up again, wild curls bouncing all over the place. 

“Yeah. Okay. Should I start now?” He’s still nervous, Louis can tell. But, he thinks Harry might be a little more excited to see him fly than he’s letting on. Trying to play it cool, like Haz could ever manage that. 

“Yup, I’ll go on three alright?” 

“Alright.” Harry seems to steel himself by standing up taller and clenching his little fists to his sides. “One, Two, Three!” 

Louis leaps. He’s pretty sure he can hear Harry gasp before the wind in his ears becomes too loud to hear anything at all. For three glorious seconds, Louis is flying.  But then, he’s not flying and before he can think about what the opposite of flying is, he’s on his side in the grass. 

His first inclination that something might not be good, is the crunching sound he hears upon impact. The second, is the searing pain that spreads from his wrist up his shoulder and seemingly all over his body. The third, is the sound of his mama’s screams from the kitchen window. 

Harry’s crouched down next to him and he prods at his shoulder a little so he’ll lay flat on his back. It hurts, but not any different or worse than it's been hurting so he figures that's okay. Harry is breathless and looks scared to death, but there’s something else there and Louis doesn’t have to wonder what for long. 

“Lou, I bet you are the most bravest boy in the whole town.” Louis can still hear his mama screaming for his daddy, and his arm still  _ really  _ hurts, but something about the way Harry says it makes everything feel a whole lot better. 

 

When Louis is nine years old, he earns himself  a cast, three whole weeks grounded from tv (especially Superman), and an addiction to impressing Harry Styles. 

* * *

 

Fourteen is too young for a driver’s license. Driving into town, going to the movies, sneaking into bars; for all those things,  you’ve got to be sixteen. But, to drive around on the farm, to kick up clouds of red clay dust thick enough to leave the residue clinging to your hair and skin, to pull donuts in the farthest field away from the farmer’s house, all you need is a farm truck license. With the right job, you can get a farm truck license at fourteen. 

It’s a newly acquired farm truck license, a bottle of Boone's Farm, and the way the freckles on Harry’s nose look when he’s been working in the sun all day, that can be blamed for their current predicament -tearing through a corn field using nothing but the light of the moon to guide them. 

Harry is holding on to the window frame for dear life, but his laugh is uproarious and nearly constant. Even if Louis had it in his mind to slow down, to stop and head back, he wouldn't be able to resist hearing that sound for just a little bit longer. He presses down on the gas, ignoring the way the old engine whines, and lets his grin spread large and open across his face. 

It’s been a wet summer, great for growth and even better for mud. So when they hit a patch of slick mud that splatters beautifully against the windshield and up onto the roof, Louis thinks _ why the hell not _ and guns it. The old truck can’t go much faster, but everything feels faster when your tail end is slipping and sliding out from behind you. Feels scary, feels thrilling, feels wonderful. Until Harry lets out another laugh and grabs onto Louis’s bicep tight, trying to anchor himself before the next dip in the road. That's when Louis feels like a hundred butterflies have been let loose in his stomach and he’s dizzy with the it. He turns his head sharply to look at Harry. The unbridled joy he sees on the younger boy’s face catches his breath, holds his attention for just a minute. 

A lot can happen in a minute, they learn. Turns out one of those things is losing control of the front end of a truck, then the back end, and smacking right into a farmer’s barn at 2 in the morning. 

At fourteen years old, thanks to his daddy deciding a lesson needed to be learned,  Louis spends his first night in jail. At fourteen years old, Louis spends his first and certainly not last night in jail with Harry (whose mama agreed with Louis’s daddy). At fourteen years old, Louis does not learn the lesson his daddy was trying to teach him, but he does learn that maybe anywhere with Harry, is where he ought to be. 

* * *

  
  


“So, you’re going to make me celebrate my sixteenth birthday without you? Alone, with who, my mama and my sister?” Harry’s whiny tone is in direct contrast to his body language, all crossed arms and clenched jaw. That’s how Harry is now. Somewhere between his last year of junior league and his second year of highschool, Harry had shot up and grown about two feet  in every direction. Problem was, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his new body. Most of the time it seemed to have a mind of its own. Like now, while he trips over his feet making his way down the hall to lean against Louis’s bedroom door frame and glare at him. 

Louis tries as hard as he can to hide the smile that’s fighting to inch across his face, but looks down at his boots just to be safe. Harry’s pretty laid back just about 98% of the time, but laughing at him right now would be more dangerous than poking a mare in foal. 

“Haz, your birthday isn’t for another two months.” He finally gets a hold of his face and schools it carefully to show curious concern, before meeting Harry’s gaze. He doesn’t look like he buys it. 

“Yeah, but you’ve obviously decided to go off and get yourself killed.” He stomps his foot at the last word and Louis has to bite his lip and look away. He pretends to be checking his gloves for rips along the seams, avoids showing Harry what he’s thinking.  Thinking Harry’s temper tantrums shouldn’t be so cute. Harry’s a grown man. Well, almost. “So, I’m just preparing myself for a life without my best friend.” 

Louis’s eyes snap up to meet Harry’s before the description is fully out of his mouth. Clenching his jaw and rocking back onto his heels, he holds Harry’s gaze while he straights from his crouched position. 

Every bit of oxygen leaves the room through the open door, the tension crackles palpably between them. It’s as if a storm cloud floated right in through the window and is hovering at the ceiling. Ready to light up the room and send crashing vibrations of thunder bouncing against the walls. 

They keep coming back to this place, riding the same ride over and over. Louis watches as Harry swallows, watches his adam's apple bob and his throat work. He stalks toward him slowly, purposefully. A farmhand approaching a mistrusting filly, both the former and the latter wracked with trepidation. When he sees Harry’s eyes sweep down towards his lips, move down towards his chest, snap back up. He know’s he’s almost won. 

“So what you’re saying is, you’d miss me.” He pauses, waiting for Harry to meet his eyes. “ _ Pal. _ ” Harry clenches his jaw and tilts his head in warning. He doesn’t want to do this right now, doesn’t want to have this not quite fight they keep having. Fuck what Harry wants. 

He stalks closer to him with each sentence. Speaking quietly, slowly, deadly. “You’re saying you don’t want me to get hurt, right  _ buddy _ ?” Harry tilts his chin up and looks at Louis down his nose. He’s obviously decided to change tactics; wants to seem unbothered. Wants Louis to feel silly. It’s a little early in the routine to pull the move, but hell, Louis call roll with the punches.  

“What exactly, did you come here in your tightest wranglers to tell me?” He rakes his eyes down Harry’s body and back again. “Hmmm,  _ friend.” _ He lets the last words slither off his tongue, watches with satisfaction as Harry bows up and takes a step towards Louis. They’re toe to toe, breathing each other’s air and for the first time Louis thinks Harry might actually snap. 

The thing is Louis knows what he feels for Harry, hell he’s probably known on some level since he was nine years old. The only thing he knows for sure, more than he knows about how he feels, is that Harry feels it too. Louis knows the looks he catches Harry giving him sometimes, knows why Harry gets a little tremble in his finger tips sometimes when they brush up against each other on accident, knows why Harry’s suddenly hit with a dry mouth spell and has to politely ask Louis’s mama for a glass of water. He knows cause he's there too. But, as Harry turns his long frame abruptly and storms from the room, screen door slamming behind him, he’s reminded that Harry’s got a wall. There’s nothing more he would like to smash to bits. 

That night, Louis rides his first bull. He’s one town over in a tiny arena, riding before the weekly livestock auction. It’s nothing big, but it’s a start. And even though he ends up sitting a bull that rides away from his hand, he manages 7 seconds before he’s tossed in the dirt.  While the bullfighters in their ridiculous costumes distract the bull, he scrambles back up and over the gate, thinking he might not ever feel as amazing as he does that very second. He changes his mind when Harry grabs him by the arm on his way through the crowd and drags him into a deserted stall to kiss him, hard and long. 

When he’s eighteen, Louis rides his first bull and Harry’s wall crumbles. Harry spends the next five years trying to put it back up and Louis does everything he can manage to hide the pieces. 

 

* * *

 

In the south, the only difference between the winter and summer is the month on the calendar.  Sweat will roll off your back, soak through your ball cap, trickle down into your eyes just the same as it does when you’re hanging Christmas lights, as it does when you're celebrating Independence Day. The heat is inescapable, a part of life, a part of the fabric of everyone who's grown up in this small town, every southern town like it. 

It’s been hours since the sun painted the evening sky pink and purple with it’s departing rays.  The moon hangs bright and low over the tips of the pines that outline the parking lot of the bar.  But the heat doesn’t rest. The humidity hanging thick and sticky in the air smacks Louis like a damp washcloth across his face when he jumps down from the truck.  The familiar song of cicadas and tree frogs mixes with the music of crunching gravel under his dusty boots as makes away from across the parking lot towards the front door. When he’s about a foot away from the entrance, the door swings open and a couple tumbles out, bringing with them the sounds of music and laughter from inside. Exhaustion and adrenaline battle each other in his system as he shoulders in through the door and makes his way toward the bar. He hears Niall, his cackle floating over the top of all the bar noise, before he spots him perched on a stool and smacking some drunk fool on the shoulder. Taking the empty stool next to him for himself, Louis squeezes his hand on Niall’s shoulder in acknowledgement and drops his head onto the bar. Seems like exhaustion might win out before he even drags his ass home. 

“I’m not sure if you were raised in a barn. But, in this bar, we don’t put our dirty heads down where people are trying to drink.” Harry’s deep voice, rakes down Louis’s chest, grabs hold of his heart and squeezes. Exhaustion will just have to wait, if the beast stirring up in the pit of his stomach has anything to say about it. 

He knows what he’ll see before he even raises his head to meet Harry’s eyes, but he does it anyway. There has yet to come a day that he denied himself a good long look at Harry Styles. Just as he expected, Harry’s arms are crossed over his chest and his eyebrow is cocked, his best impression of unimpressed and annoyed. But, the right side of his mouth is putting up a pretty good fight trying to break out into a smile. 

“Imagine my luck, meeting a pretty girl like you, tending bar in a place like this.” At that, Harry loses his battle with his unruly smile. Letting his dimples pop and reaching down in front of him, he grabs a beer and plunks it down in front of Louis. 

“Any chance you’ve got some food down there too?” Rubbing his calloused hand over his face and tipping the cold beer against his lips, he lets his eyes linger on the expanse of Harry’s legs in his jeans. 

“The kitchens closed. I’m not sure if it’s hunger that you’re feeling though.” Louis drags his gaze back up to meet Harry’s and grins when he finds his expression smug. “How about some bar nuts?” 

Just shy of sixteen years of dealing with those kinds of jokes. There’s got to be some kind of gold belt buckle with Louis’s name on it for that. 

Pulling out his most pleading expression, complete with pouting lip and wide eyes, he leans forward on the bar. “I’m starving, Haz. Probably won’t last the hour, just gonna wither away to nothing.” 

“Yeah well, poutings not gonna do you any good around here, cowboy.” Maybe if Louis hadn’t spent over half of his life with this man, he wouldn’t have noticed the way he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, teeth biting down on his bottom lip for a second before he got a hold of himself and schooled his face back into annoyed disinterest. Guess they’ll never know. 

“Well.” Lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, and dropping a couple octaves he watches Harry’s eyes go dark. Just for him. Just for them. “How about begging? I’ll even tack on a pretty please, seeing as I don’t have a cherry for the top.” 

Ten minutes later, eating his meatloaf Harry had produced from the kitchen where it had been sitting under the warming light, Louis meets Harry’s eyes down the bar and gives a him a wink while he chats to some college girl.  Right on cue, Harry sends one right back. 

 

Harry’s got a place above the bar, a little apartment he’s just finished renovating sometime early Spring. It’s a nice place, all the things he needs. Pretty view too. All he’s got to do is march right up the narrow stairway in the back and he’ll be in bed. Harry’s got a cute little place right above the bar, with a nice soft bed, that has never, not once, been slept in. 

 At the end of each night, he wipes down the bar, shuts out the lights, locks up all the doors, and heads out front and into Louis’s truck. The ride home is always quiet, the radio on low, crooning soft country music while Harry rests his head on Louis’s shoulder. Running the bar, owning and running his very own bar is something Harry is immensely proud of. But, Louis knows that after being the center of attention for hours everyday, Harry needs those quiet drives. Just like when they were kids and would lay in the back of the truck and stare at the stars, letting the night quiet their brains. 

Recognizing the sound of the truck, the dogs bark half heartedly from inside the house. Harry, with his eight feet of leg and giraffe stride, makes it in the front door first. Scratching behind ears along the way to the kitchen, his posture displays the wear and tear of the day starting to sink in.

Toeing off his boots and putting them in the closet to avoid a lecture in the morning about the relationship between godliness and cleanliness, Louis follows after him. He finds him in the kitchen, where he always is as soon as they get home. Standing in the light of the open fridge, making no move to actually take anything out nor close the door. Spinning the goddamn meter, is what he’s doing. Louis could tell him that, for the hundredth time. But, there are more important things to take care of. Like getting his hands on every bit of him he can reach. 

Wrapping his arms around his chest and pulling him a step back into his embrace, Louis hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder and noses at his jaw line. Whispers into the day old scruff he finds there. 

“Missed you.” His heart thumps just a little bit faster when he feels Harry’s skin heat under his lips. 

“Yeah?” Harry lets the fridge door swing shut and tilts his head to the side to give him more access. Lets him take. 

“Mmhmm. Couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do as soon as I got home. Would have flown here if I could.” Harry melts, lets all of his weight drop back against Louis and his eyes slip close. He doesn’t respond. That’s okay, Louis can handle the talking. 

“Do you want me to tell you, hmmm?” He turns them and starts to walk them down the hall, only stopping the line of kisses he’s pressing into Harry’s skin to murmur in his ear. “You want to hear the things I think about doing to you, when I’m away.” 

Harry’s babbling now, whining and grinding back against Louis’s crotch as much as he can while stumbling down the hall and sliding along the hardwood.  The man was born without a lick of shame and Louis can’t believe he gets to keep him. 

Louis has never in his life been so glad to see his own bedroom when they finally get to through the doorway. Making quick work of Harry’s belt and button on his jeans, he expertly pulls them down and off while Harry knees up onto the bed and rips his shirt over his head. Yanking his own jeans down and pulling his shirt off, he only lets Harry get half way across bed before he’s pressing up behind him, skin to skin, breathing in the scent of his hair. 

“I could tell you, Haz.” The way Harry shivers in response to Louis’s voice will never not be the hottest goddamn thing Louis has ever seen. “But, you were pretty mean to me tonight at the bar, don’t you think?” He can’t see his face, with him turned away from him like this, but he doesn’t need to. Knows him like the back of his hand. Knows the way Harry’s hips are circling back, the way he’s winding his hands up and back into Louis’s hair, he’s trying to sweeten him up. Get himself out of trouble. 

“Almost made me beg for my own dinner didn’t you?” Sliding his hand up Harry’s torso, over his chest, circling his throat lightly, he makes sure he’s got his attention. “But, who makes you beg, H?” 

The question sends Harry’s hips into a frenzy, gasping and writhing back against Louis. They’ve been apart for a week now, too long. Much too long them, for how they are together, for how much they need each other. Too long for Harry to be sleeping in this bed alone, waiting for him.

Muttering soothing praise and rubbing his thumb gently along the line of Harry’s throat, Louis leans over to the nightstand and pumps the lube over his hand liberally. When Harry had brought home the mason jar with the pump lid, they'd had a three day fight about it.  Lube isn’t the kind of thing you put on display like lavender soap for Christ’s sake. But, he’s got to admit now, the convenience makes up for the frill of the thing. 

Sliding his fingers along the cleft of Harry’s ass, he rubs firmly on the soft skin around his rim. Just circling, testing, teasing. Harry’s body makes to collapse forward, pliant and wanting. He holds him up with his forearm against his chest and applies a glimpse of pressure to his throat. Harry whimpers and pushes his hips back, trying to get Louis’s fingers inside him, trying to get himself fucked open. 

“Beg for it.” 

The words tumble out of Harry’s mouth so quickly, he had to have been waiting for Louis to give the command. He begs, to be touched, for Louis to open him up, for Louis to please do  _ something.  _

Louis presses one finger past the tight ring of muscle into the incredible heat, in between Harry’s gasping pleas. 

“Seems like someone’s kept himself busy while I was gone.” Harry’s open enough for a second, so Louis doesn’t wait. Pushing in another finger he searches for Harry’s prostate, knows he finds it when Harry throws his head back and whimpers. 

“Got lonely without you.” The sadness in Harry’s voice is wrapped up and hidden away by pleasure and lust. But, Louis knows it’s there, can feel it radiating off his skin so he holds him tighter. 

“Laid in this bed all by yourself, stuffed yourself full. I’d pay a whole lot of money to watch a pretty show like that.” Flattery doesn’t work on Harry Styles for most, but they wouldn’t be here if Louis’s didn’t work like a charm. Every time. 

“Give me another Lou. I can take it.” Louis knows it’s probably a little too soon, that it’s gonna burn a little, that Harry loves the burn. Louis would die to give Harry everything he wants, happily. With his fingers working, circling, prodding, slowly scissoring Harry open, his mouth marks him up. His neck and back are littered with love bites, red and purple. His dick drips from the beautiful sounds Harry makes every time his teeth make contact with his soft skin. 

Harry’s voice is wrecked, raspy and low. “Lou.” 

 

Louis responds without moving his lips from Harry’s shoulder. “Hmmm.”

 

“Lou.” Harry’s whining now. Almost. Almost there. He turns his head to try and look into Louis’s face, try and kiss him. Try and coax him a bit. Louis jerks his head back around. 

 

“Hmmm?” Louis response manages to sound curious and filthy at the same time. Harry’s hips jerk back in response. 

 

“Please. Lou, please. Fuck me.” There it is. Good things come to those who wait. 

 

Shoving him down with a hand between his shoulder blades, he grabs a pillow and pulls it up under Harry’s hips. His hand stings with the sharp smack he gives him once on the ass when he reflexively humps down against it. Harry stills, but arches his back and pushes his ass up in the air. Presents himself. 

Lining his cock up, Louis leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Always been so slutty for me.” Harry gives him the reaction he’d been betting on and shoves his hips back while Louis pushes forward. The sudden heat of being wrapped up in his boy steals Louis’s breath. Everything in him wants to rush, wants to take so fiercely Harry will walk with a slight limp for days. And he’d take it, Harry would love every second of it. But, the need to take care of Harry will always win out, so while his fingers press bruises into the soft pads of flesh over his hip bones, Louis gentles his pace. His hands and mouth in contradiction, he presses soft kisses down the knobs of Harry’s spine. Shows him how much he’s valued, treasured, while rocking himself deep. 

Harry’s soft chant of fuck, fuck, fuck mixes beautifully with the sound of Louis’s harsh breath and the creak of the iron bedframe.  He let’s Louis be gentle with him. Lets him take care of him, knows it’s something Louis will always need to do. But when Louis pulls Harry hips back and moves his own hips just so, his dick pressed so firmly in all the right places, and Harry’s control snaps. 

Louis’s mouth waters as he watches the muscles in Harry’s back bunch and flex while he works himself back onto his dick. He holds out for three seconds, holding still and letting Harry take it however he wants, before he loses it and slams into him. 

The bedframe protests from where the force of their bodies is sending it crashing up against the wall.  The dry wall starts to give, chunks of plaster and dust floating down onto the bed. Neither of them notice. It’s only a minute into this punishing pace that Louis feels Harry tense up, squeeze his dick so hard he sees stars. He chases him over the edge, fumbling his hand under Harry’s body to quickly stroke him one, two, three times before he’s coming onto the quilt. Louis falls apart inside him and collapses with his head resting on his back. 

When he regains function of his limbs, Louis rolls onto his side, bringing Harry to his chest and pressing kisses across his face. Harry sighs into the embrace and shifts closer, nuzzling his nose against his chest and letting exhaustion fall over him like a warm blanket. He’s a little too blissed out to understand the soft words Louis is murmuring into his hair, but works hard to zone in and pay attention. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” Each endearment is punctuated by a kiss. “You’re my everything. Worth more than anything I’ve got in this world.” Harry smiles into Louis’s chest. Louis isn’t the soppy type, doesn’t do big declarations. It’s what makes these whispered moments all that more important. Special. 

“Nothing could keep me from you.” Harry looks up into Louis’s eyes at the familiar phrase. The same one he’s been hearing since he was seven years old, a phrase that's shifted meaning over the years, but will always be theirs. 

Gently rubbing his thumb over Louis’s bottom lip, he asks the question he’s asked a million times before. “Wild horses?” 

Louis tucks him in tighter against his chest and rubs a hand down his back. Feels rather than sees, him drift off to sleep. 

“Not even wild horses.” 

  
  
  


When Louis won his first year end title at 20 years old, he walked away with 250,000 dollars. The first thing he did was pay off his mama’s house, the second thing was buying the farmhouse and the land that came with it. 

The farmhouse had been vacant all through his childhood, his mama was pretty sure through hers as well. It was rundown and unkempt, a hazard really. But, when Louis saw the look on Harry’s face when he’d heard the town was planning on tearing it down, he knew he had to buy it. 

The bank couldn’t wait to get rid of it, gave it to him for barely anything. It may have been a hiding place for them as boys, a playground and escape, but to everyone else the place simply held no value. So most of what was left of that 250K went into renovating the house and tending to the overgrown fields. Louis couldn’t care less about the different types of grain of hardwood, or brushed nickel fixtures, but Harry did. So, Harry got the reins. 

Standing in the kitchen, looking through the oversized window out at Harry playing with the dogs and cows in the field, he’s reminded of what a good choice he’d made seven years ago. From the concrete counter tops to the claw bathtubs, everything is Harry. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Steaming cup of coffee in hand, Louis makes his way through the screen door onto the back porch just as Niall’s truck comes rumbling up the side drive. He raises his cup at him in welcome, and chuckles as he watches him wave eagerly to Harry. Sometimes he wonders how he got stuck with this pair of circus clowns. 

Niall makes his way up to the porch, patting the barking dogs and tripping over roaming chickens on the way. 

Plopping himself in the rocking chair next to Louis, he kicks up his feet on the railing. Harry’s gonna smack him across the back of the head if he catches him doing that. Scuff marks are not to be taken lightly. 

Both men rock in silence for a bit, watching Harry laugh as one of the cows licks his head. The dogs have made their way back over to him, as all animals seem to do. They lope a lazy circle  around him now, barking jovially. 

“Had a good couple rides I heard.” The men don’t turn towards each other when Niall starts talking, but Louis knows he’s wearing an easy smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Good couple rides.” He takes a sip of coffee and burns the tip of his tongue. Damn it. “Made a little bit of change. Thinking about buying that mare Harry’s been talking about.” 

Niall nods and makes a noncommittal humming noise. Louis takes another sip of coffee, carefully avoiding burning himself again. The air around Niall shifts, becomes denser. Louis leans back into the chair and rocks gently on the balls of his feet. Niall’s not been here but five minutes and already he’s setting up to lay in on him. Might be a record. 

“Ni, you better say what it is you’ve got to say before you end up biting your own tongue off.” 

Niall doesn’t even bother looking surprised. A little annoyed maybe. “He didn’t do great this week. Saw him on Wednesday and it looked like he hadn’t slept for days.” Niall’s a carefree sort of guy, happy, laughing all the time. When Louis looks over at him now, he can’t find even a ghost of smile. He sighs deeply again and turns towards the field. His eyes land on Harry again, seek him out on their own accord. He could probably find him in a crowd of a million, ten million. He’s all he ever sees. 

He knows Niall is waiting for a response. The thing is, he doesn’t have one. He knows. He knows how Harry is when he’s gone. They’ve gone around and around enough times for him to know that Harry is sick and tired of Louis living the rodeo life.  Been enough smashed glasses and slamming doors.  Harry’s sick and tired of worrying about him, missing him, patching him up. Most of all, Louis thinks, Harry is sick and tired of being sick and tired. 

“I’ve only got a couple more rides this year. Season’s almost over.” It’s bullshit, a cop out. Niall knows it, Louis knows, everybody knows it. It’s just what he says to get them all off his back. This time Niall’s not letting up. 

“Yeah, that’s what you say every season.” He gets out of his chair slowly and leans his back against the rail. Crossing his arms across his chest and crossing his ankles, he narrows his eyes. “How many times do I have to offer you this job? What’s it gonna take?” 

Louis’s still full coffee cup makes a clunking noise when he shoves it down onto the floor, warm coffee dripping over the lip.  He drags calloused hands over his face and stares up at the ceiling of the porch, watches a spider make its was across the fan. The blades of the dark stained fan are shaped like wide tropical leaves. Harry had insisted on having three of them, even though they were the most expensive in the store. Louis had fought it, reminded him that they were renovating a farmhouse not building a mexican resort. Harry always gets his way in the end. 

“I don’t know, Ni. This is all I know. This is what I’m good at. I’m good at riding bulls, I’m good at making money.”

“Anyone who’s ever seen you with the kids, knows you are just as good at teaching those little ones to ride those ponies as you are at riding those bulls.” Niall sighs and picks up Louis’s coffee, takes a sip. “Is it about the money? Don’t you think you have enough?” 

Louis laughs dryly. The spider starts spinning a web. Imagine being able to pick up and drop down wherever the wind takes you. Imagine not having anything to leave behind. Gotta be a lonely kind of life. 

“What if he leaves?” Niall’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper. The sincere concern in it almost breaks Louis. 

What would he do if Harry left him? Thats an easy one. He’d fall to pieces, never be put back together again. “He won’t go.” 

“ And how do you suppose -” When Niall’s voice cuts out abruptly, Louis tears his eyes from the ceiling and looks over. 

Harry is standing at the base of the steps with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are ice cold. The ticking in his jaw warns Louis to stay where he is and shut his mouth. Both men watch silently as Harry strides onto the porch and into the house, the screen door bouncing off the frame threateningly. 

Niall takes another sip of coffee and stares at Louis until he drops his head into his hands. Well shit. 

  
  


If asked, Louis wouldn’t describe himself as weak. Physically, obviously he’s as fit as he’ll probably ever be. Stronger than most men double his size and legs of steel. He can handle his fair share of shit emotionally, too. Kept it together for Mama when Daddy died.  Stood strong for Harry through the countless night rescues of the abused animals they’ve got living at the farm now. But, every man has his limit and Louis has come to realize that three days of silent treatment from Harry is his. 

The look Harry had thrown at him over his coffee mug this morning, about damn near froze his eyebrows off his face. So, he’d gotten dressed, hooked up the trailer, and headed out on a drive to a farm three towns over. Stopping to pick up Liam along the way had proved to be a good idea when Louis’s newly purchased mare tried her damndest to kick everyone within twenty feet full in the face.  Liam has a way with animals, not like Harry, but close to it, never rough, never too loud. Louis likes to have him around for rescues, “please forgive me” spur of the moments purchases too it seems. 

On the stranger’s farm, working to get the horse loaded up in the trailer before some of the farm hands try a rougher approach, Louis is thankful for Liam’s company. In the truck on the way back, not so much. 

“I’m just laying it out for you.” The way Liam smacks his hand on the dash while he’s preaching might have intimidated Louis if he didn’t have it on good authority that until eighth grade, Liam had to sleep with a blankie. “H has been telling you he wants you off the circuit since the minute you stepped in the ring. I don’t know if bringing home a banged up quarter horse is gonna do the job here, Lou.” 

Working hard to not audibly thank the Lord above when they swing the truck into the farmhouse driveway, Louis grinds his teeth. 

“Well Liam, not that I don’t appreciate the lecture.” Pausing to concentrate on maneuvering around a barn cat who’s decided the driveways a great place for a nap, he tucks his tongue in the corner of his mouth. “But how about you let me worry about how Harry feels.” 

Louis has known Liam since they were six years old, sitting at Sunday school, trying their very best to get in as much trouble as possible. He’s as close to Liam as he is to Niall, to Zayn. Knows him inside and out. So he really should have seen the punch coming a mile away. But, he must be distracted this morning, because when Liam’s fist cracks him in the jaw, he’s surprised as hell. 

“What the fuck, Liam!” Mystified and pissed off, he throws his seat belt off and bodily turns to his passenger seat. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was for?” 

Liam is already hopping down and slamming the door behind him. He marches around the truck and jabs his finger in Louis’s face, the latter raising his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“You deserved that, in fact I should give you another!” Liam’s not easily riled, but he can be hell on wheels when he wants to be. His shouts catch the attention of the cows in the field, who lift their heads in interest. “Who the fuck do you think you are, saying some dumb shit like that? You think you’re the only one who cares about Harry? Who in God’s name do you think is here for him when you pack your shit and leave?” 

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Liam stomps up to the porch, throws open the back door and slams inside the house. The screen door swings ominously. He’s gonna need a new one by Halloween at this rate. 

A movement from the right catches Louis’s eye. Harry’s been drawn out of the barn, most likely heard Liam screaming like a banshee, and came to investigate. He’s eyeing the trailer curiously, but doesn’t move from his place leaning against the barn door. Louis decides it’s best to put out one fire at a time. Jumping down from the truck he makes his way around to the side door of the trailer and looks over his shoulder at Harry, hand poised on the handle. 

“Come on, come see.” Harry rolls his eyes, but curiosity gets the best of him and he saunters over. Louis can practically see the ice melt when he swings open the door and Harry’s met with the sight of the mare sniffing cautiously at the air. 

“Hello there, mama. Haven’t seen you in a bit, have I.” Calmed by Harry’s soft coos, the mare nudges at his palm with her nose. Instant friends. Stroking her face gently, Harry turns his attention to Louis, who stands with his hands in his pockets. 

“You went and got her for me? When? This morning?” His voice is still clipped slightly, he’s still pissed. But he’s talking at least. One small step for man. 

Louis nods and sends him a shrug. “Drove out with Liam, he’s in the house.” He takes a small step forward, breathes a sigh of relief when Harry doesn’t step back. “Figured this could be my first step at taking my boot out of my mouth.” 

Harry nods silently and turns back to the mare. He watches her for a minute, contemplating. When he speaks again, Louis hears a bit of resignation in his low murmur. 

“I’ve forgiven you already. I always forgive you too easily.” Turning away from the mare, he walks toward the back of the trailer. Louis follows. When he moves to take down the ramp, Louis stops him with a hand on his wrist. 

“H.” Turning him around he presses him back against the trailer, crowds him in. “I’m sorry. You know I’m sorry. I can’t take it when you’re hurt.” 

Harry shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest in protection. Trying to physically protect his heart from the only one who has full access to it. 

“I’m tired of being treated like a sure thing, Lou. Tired of being treated like I’ve got no choice but to deal with whatever you decide to throw at me.” 

The sadness in his voice rips through Louis worse than any bull ever could. “Baby, Harry. Look at me.” Taking his chin in his hand, he pulls Harry’s eyes up to meet his. “I know you’re not a sure thing, you’re the only thing. My everything. I can’t imagine a life without you, it’s just something I’m not strong enough to think about.” 

Stepping forward to close the last inch of space, he pulls Harry close and kisses him. He’s gentle, waiting. Doesn’t let up until he feels Harry’s body relax and respond. Nipping gently at his bottom lip, he begs for Harry’s forgiveness. Running his hands through Louis’s hair and holding on tight, Harry kisses him hard. 

After a minute, he pushes Louis out of his space gently but keeps his hands fisted in this tshirt. 

“Come on, let’s show this girl her new home.” He turns towards the ramp and pulls out the pin, before stopping and turning back. “And we better get some ice on that face of yours. Looks like Liam’s still got one hell of a right hook.” 

  
  


Life on the circuit has been good to him, financially. It also gives him freedom when he’s home, that others who hold down a 9-5 don’t get to enjoy. While a good bit of that free time does go to fishing and shooting the shit with the boys, he always makes sure to get to his Mama’s at least once a week. 

The fence around the front yard needs to be fixed; his sister had just told him last week when he saw her at the bar. He’d planned on getting out there early, before the sun had a chance to get to middle of the sky and roast everything in it’s path. But, it was breezy last night and Harry had decided to sleep naked with the windows thrown open. When Louis had woken up this morning, wrapped up in long limbs, he was a little distracted. So he’d had a late start. 

He knew he’d pay for it, and man is he ever. He’s already soaked through his shirt, feels the start of sunburn riding high on his cheeks. There’s blisters forming on his hands, the insides of his fingers. But, that he doesn’t mind, thinks of them as a sign of hard work. 

Striking the spade of the shovel into the ground, he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The screen door taps shut against the frame, and he looks up to see his mama making her way across the yard, two cold glasses of tea in her hands. 

“Well, if that’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Grabbing the glass she hands him he leans forward and kisses her cheek in thanks. 

Her laugh tinkles around them like the ice cubes knocking against the glass. 

“You don’t have to sweet talk me Casanova, I’m your mama.” She bops his nose before taking a small sip. “I’ve gotta love ya.” 

She laughs again and shakes her head, watching Louis wiggle his eyebrows while taking a long gulp. 

“Mary came around yesterday, brought back my pie dish.” She leans her weight against the new fence post in a stance that Louis recognizes as her windup for a story. “She told me, she found out from Louann, who was speaking to her cousin Billy that works at the gas station - you know the one that sells the Slurpees but calls them something else-  well he says that you bought yourself one of Harper’s horses.” 

Louis rolls his eyes in amusement and grins at her mischievously. “With a line of reporters that long, it’s a wonder you even bother watching the news.” 

She makes a grab for his ear, laughing he twists out of it and lands a kiss on the top of her head before dancing out of her reach and resting on the fence. 

“Don’t try and change the subject, you little smartass.”

He shrugs and takes another sip of the tea. “Yeah, Harry had his eye on a mare over there. So I went to get her, that’s all there is to it really.” 

She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. He can all but see the gears spinning around, steam flowing out of her ears. 

“Usually, big gestures follow big screwups.” When Louis tightens his jaw and shoves his hands in his pockets, she knows she’s found her mark.  All of a sudden she’s looking at 12 year old Louis who’d taken his Daddy’s pickup for a joy ride and had joyfully ridden it right into a ditch. 

“It was just more of the same, the usual.” He looks up at the sky, back down at the grass, around her to the front porch, everywhere but her face. “Niall came to offer me the position teaching the kids to ride over at his place again. Harry heard me turn him down. Heard me say I didn’t think he’d ever leave me.” 

She sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. He could probably use a cut. 

“Can you blame him for wanting you off the circuit. The poor boy just wants you home, out of harm’s way. You can’t blame him for that, can you?” She watches with concerned eyes as he shakes his head. “Seems to me, earning his forgiveness is getting to be pretty expensive. Might be cheaper to give him what he’s asking for.” 

Louis has never been the kind of man that takes being told what to do well, even when it’s suggested so craftily. His back goes up, and he makes to argue but she taps him on the chest and continues on in a cheerful voice. 

“Do you remember, that couple I told you about I’ve been helping at Dr. Fitch’s office? The couple that couldn’t have a baby.” She pauses just long enough for him to give her a confused nod of the head. “Well, they just adopted a baby girl! Isn’t that the most wonderful news? Now they get their little girl that they have been so desperately trying for, and  an unfortunate little girl gets a loving home!” 

She holds her hand to her heart and smiles serenely before taking his empty glass and heading back to the house. Leaving Louis absolutely bewildered. There’s gotta be something in the water. 

  
  
  


When it’s time to go back on the road, they don’t talk about it. Years ago there would have been a fight. There are years of tears and screams, broken glass and cutting words, littering their history. But, now Louis doesn’t have anything to say and Harry’s heard it all. Standing in the kitchen in bare feet with a cup of coffee, Harry watches Louis lumber in with his bag on his shoulder. It’s his personal rule to never let Louis leave him without one, so he allows him a kiss. But, it lacks heat and he turns away from him as soon as their lips part. Louis stands and stares at his back for a minute. Takes in the way his shoulders are hunched, his muscles tensed. With nothing left to do, he plops his baseball cap on his head and heads out the front, closing the door behind him quietly. Standing on the porch, he hears the tell tale sign of a glass smashing on the other side. 

  
  


He’s always been able to tell what kind of ride he’s in for just about the second he finds himself on the bull. He’d known with this one. Beau is his name, and he’d known the minute he sat him he was gonna stick. He was gonna stick but Beau was gonna be pissed about it. 

The eight seconds probably fly by for the crowd, but for him, it could be years. He’s in the best form of his life, sticking like velcro, Beau couldn’t get out from under him if he rolled over and begged. It’s the high from the ride, from knowing he just did the best of anyone in that arena that night, that clouds his thinking when he leaps down onto the sand of the arena. The bullfighters are already working, distracting the bull and pulling him away, when Louis catches a glimpse of a little girl in the stands waving with vigor. He smiles up at her, pulled in by her energy and innocent excitement. He makes his way over towards her with the intention of signing the piece of poster board she’s waving around, when he’s thrown 50 feet to the side. Crumpled up against the wall of the arena, he looks up to see the bull lowering his head to charge again, his mind goes black. 

Beau gets him twice more before they get him contained. By the grace of God, somehow while being thrown around like a ragdoll he had avoided breaking any bones. The doc in the ER isn’t so sure about a concussion, but Louis’s had three of those and he’s not thinking he does now. Hes bruised all over his body and he’s made it out alive sure, but it feels like with every breath he’s dying. They give him 20 stitches, wrap up his bruised ribs, glue together his face lacerations, and hand him a bottle of serious pain meds, before they let him go. They tried keeping him overnight, but the smell of hospitals reminds him of his granddaddy and he can’t stand it. 

The drive home is hell, the truck takes every bump in the road like it’s a trench and he’s knocked breathless countless times. He hasn’t had a chance to look in a mirror, doesn’t really want to anyway, but he knows his right eye is swollen shut judging by the way his vision is impaired. The only thing he thinks about is walking through his front door. The thought of Harry, the thought of home, is the only thing that gets him there. 

Getting from the truck to the front door turns out to be one of the hardest goddamn things he’s ever had to do. Slumping against the oak door, he manages to bang his fist against it a couple times and hopes it’s loud enough for Harry to hear. 

It takes him a little while, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, an hour. He can’t be sure of how much time really passes. But, it’s just around 2am so Harry was probably sleeping. Probably wondering who the hell is knocking on the door at this hour.  Louis hauls himself up onto his feet when he hears Harry approaching from the other side of the door and leans his forehead on it. When Harry wrenches it open, Louis falls forward into his arms. 

Harry catches him of course, steadies him on his feet and reaches behind him to close and lock the door. He hadn’t turned on any lights on his way to the door, the house is still steeped in darkness. Harry can’t see his face yet, but he can obviously tell something’s wrong by the way Louis teeters and sways on his feet. 

He drags him into the kitchen and sits him on a stool. With an aggravated tone of voice, sleep still sticking at the edges he questions him while feeling for the light switch. 

“What the hell is the matter with you? Are you drunk or some-” 

The fixture hanging high on the kitchen ceiling bathes them in light. The harshness of it makes Louis squint, gasping at the pain it causes in the cuts on his forehead. When his eyes adjust he watches Harry stare at him, face white and shocked, mouth hanging open. 

Harry swallows and breathes more than says,  “Fuck.” 

Louis winces again at Harry’s reaction. He shifts a little on the stool and regrets it immediately. “Yeah well, you oughta see the other guy.” He tries for a dry laugh and ends up gasping in pain. 

Harry holds up a hand and clenches his jaw. “Don’t, don’t fucking joke right now Lou.” 

Louis drops his eyes to the floor and murmurs an apology. For getting hurt, for leaving, for joking, he doesn’t know. 

Harry takes a steadying breath and steels himself. “Hey, alright it’s fine. It will be fine. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

Placing a steadying arm around his waist, he walks him down the hall and gently undresses him. Taking the pill bottle out of his jeans, Harry goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water before he tucks Louis under the blankets. 

Louis takes the medicine and leans back on the pillow. Means to thank Harry, for being there, for helping him. But his mind is already clouding up and his body’s starting to feel fuzzy. He looks into Harry’s eyes and watches them swim with tears before sleep takes him. 

 

When the medicine is in effect, he sleeps like he’s dead. When it wears off, he hurts like he’s dying.  The first time he wakes up he’s aware that Harry is with him in the bed, sitting up at the end.  It takes a few seconds before he realizes he’s on the phone. He can’t make out the words, his brain is still a mess, but he can hear his deep voice muttering. He wets his lips and shifts just a centimeter, but Harry catches the movement and puts down the phone. He’s not  crying any more, but he doesn’t look happy either. 

“Hey, you’re up.” He smoothes his hand over Louis’s forehead, checking for temperature. “I need you to drink this glass of water okay? Drink the whole thing with your medicine.” 

He does as he’s told and is out before his head hits the pillow. 

The next time he wakes up, the pain is slightly better. But, his brain still doesn’t want to cooperate. Someone is in the room, sitting in the chair next to him. It’s not Harry, he realizes after a beat, but Niall. 

He’s got to pee something awful, and he tells him so. Niall helps him to the bathroom and back again. Gives him his medicine and insists he drinks the whole glass of water, says Harry said he’s got to. The medicine takes hold of him before he can wonder why Harry isn’t there to make him do it himself. 

It’s night when he wakes up next. Someone has left the curtains open and he can see the stars through the window. The pain is much more tolerable now, but getting up on his own still proves impossible. Just as he starts to feel like he’s no better than a helpless calf, Liam comes through the bedroom door, plate of toast in hand. 

“Whoa! Slow down.” Liam rushes to the bed and gently helps Louis into a seated position, propping up the pillows up behind him. “Didn’t realize you were up. How ya feeling?” 

“Remember the summer we worked for Old Man Johnson, and we ran the tractor into the side of the house?” His voice is a little raspy for disuse but Liam gets the point and nods along. “I’m feeling like the house.” 

He nudges his chin towards the plate Liam put on the nightstand. “That for me?” 

Liam looks over like he forgot all about it and grabs it for him, placing it on his lap. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah figured you’d be hungry. It’s been..” He pauses, looks to be gauging Louis reaction when he continues. “It’s been three days so, I figured you’d be hungry.”

Louis nods. Three days then. Not so bad. Not so good, but not so bad. 

“Harry’s at the bar?” 

Liam nods, “Well yeah, it’s night right now so.” He shrugs his shoulders and Louis laughs at him, thankful as hell when he realizes it doesn’t hurt. 

“Yeah Liam, that’s probably why the stars are out.” Liam hesitates, opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. 

“Well, I’m heading out. Unless you need something.” He stands and brushes his hands on his jeans. “Niall already called and said he’s on his way.” 

Louis shakes his head in confusion as he watches Liam head to the door. “Harry’s shift will be over soon won’t it, I’m gonna take my meds now. I’ll be fine till he gets home.” 

Liam stops and looks down at his feet for a second. He’s got a battle raging on his face and if Louis was in a better state of mind he would probably think to ask what it was about. Whatever it is, Liam must figure it out because he sets his expression and turns to him, 

“You’re right, Harry will be done at the bar soon. Take your meds.” 

Shaking his head at Liam and his strange behavior, Louis takes his pain pill and drifts off again. 

  
  
  


The next morning, Louis wakes up with a groan and the urge to pee like a racehorse. He drags himself to the bathroom, slower than normal but on his own at least. He’s washing his hands in the sink when he hears a low laugh from the kitchen. He decides brushing his teeth can wait. Turning towards the door,the lack of a second toothbrush in the cup goes unnoticed.

Following the low sounds of conversation, he finds Liam and Niall in the kitchen, facing the window over the sink with coffee cups in each of their hands, having a hushed conversation. When Louis clears his throat they jump apart like a pair of startled barn cats. Good thing these guys left the dream of being crime fighting superheroes behind in the second grade. 

“Oh! Hey man.” Niall recovers first and leans back against the counter. His body seems a little tense. Probably scared himself half to death. “Didn’t realize you were up and about. Want a cup of coffee?” 

Louis eyes Liam curiously, he looks like someone’s glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Uh, yeah. I’ll take a cup.” He nudges his chin towards Liam. “What the hell is wrong  with you? Why are you looking at me like I’m a ghost?” 

He rolls his eyes at Liam’s stutters and turns to walk towards the back porch but his boots sitting by the front door catch his eye. Harry’s the type to nag a man on his deathbed for leaving his shit out, so Louis shuffles over and throws the boots haphazardly into the closet. Harry’s got about ten pairs in there, so Louis’s always get mixed up and he ends up digging through them. 

He makes to swing the closet door shut, but the sound of his boots hitting the hardwood instead of the soft padding of Harry’s confuses him. He swings the door wide and stares at his boots on the floor. Alone. Well not alone, there’s probably about four pairs pushed to the back. But there’s got to be a least that many pairs missing. Bewildered, Louis looks up at the hanging coats and sees there’s way too few coats there too. What the fuck is going on? Louis’s gut clenches and for a second he thinks it’s too quiet in the house. Why is it so quiet? His knees almost buckle when he realizes. The dogs. Where are the dogs? 

Slowly, Louis pivots back towards the kitchen and sees Liam and Niall staring at him. Niall makes an aborted movement forward, looks like he’s ready to catch him if he falls. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Louis hopes Niall has gotten a lot quicker than he was in JV football. 

“Where is he?” He can’t get his voice to work, barely makes a sound. But he can tell from Liam’s face they’d heard. They don’t answer though. The three men stand staring at each other while the coffee pot brews and fills the house with smell of french vanilla bean. Harry and his fucking fancy coffee. 

His shout startles them all. “I said, where the fuck is he!” 

Niall looks toward Liam and back at Louis. “He’s. Lou..he’s.” He can’t seem to finish the sentence. Why won’t he just fucking spit it out already, Jesus Christ. 

Liam takes a step forward. “He’s gone.” 

Louis’s knees hit the floor. 

  
  
  


When he was a kid in bible study, Louis would wonder why they bothered splitting up history between the time before Christ, and after.  Of course, Christ is a big deal, but splitting up all of history just for one guy? Seemed like overkill is all. Now, Louis’s life is marked by Harry’s leaving and he counts every day from the minute he walked out. He’s got 26 years of time before Harry left, and they don’t seem to mean a damn compared to the pain he feels in the days after he’s gone. 

On the morning of the second day without Harry, Louis runs out of whiskey and when he sobers up a little he remembers that he’s got animals to tend to. He leaves his pajama pants on, stuffs his bare feet in his boots, and drags himself out the back door. He hasn’t eaten since Liam forced him to eat a piece of chicken after they’d scraped him off the floor, but he’s done more than his fair share of drinking, so the walk to the barn takes a while longer than it usually would. His heart stops when he gets to the door and sees the outline of a tall man standing at the other end. When he realizes it’s not Harry, he’s reminded that he’s out of goddamn whiskey. When he gets about halfway down the barn, the man turns around and Louis recognizes him as Joe, the kid from down the road. When he clears his throat, Joe turns from the stall door and walks toward him hesitantly. 

“Hey, Louis.” He’s got dirt on his jeans and a grain bucket in his hands. He’s obviously working, but he looks anxious, like he’s been caught. “I, uh, well Harry asked me to come take care of the animals for you. Just um, just for a couple weeks.” 

Louis nods his head slowly and looks down at the ground, doesn’t trust himself to say anything. Leave it to Harry to know that Louis wouldn’t be able to take care of the animals. Leave it to Harry to take care of it himself, handle everything. 

Joe is shuffling his feet side to side, chewing on his bottom lip. Louis would feel bad about making him feel anxious, if he could feel anything other than heartbreak. He would rather feel nothing at right now actually. Come to think of it - 

“Joe, how old are you now? Had a birthday just a little bit ago right?” 

Joe smiles, happy that Louis remembered. “Yes sir, just turned twenty one last week!” 

“That’s right, Monday wasn’t it?” Joe nods excitedly and relaxes visibly. “ Well, Joe I gotta tell ya. I need a favor.” 

 

Louis arms Joe with his black card and his truck to send him to the store. He gives him instructions to buy just about every whiskey bottle he can manage to get in the truck. Joe doesn’t question it, bless him, but the town will talk. Everyone will hear about it and Louis can’t bring himself to care one bit. 

The people that matter the most already know. His mama already sent over three casseroles, two to freeze. Louis had sat on the kitchen floor crying for 30 minutes when he’d opened the freezer to find Harry had already made him two. Must have been busy while he was leaving him.

So, he’s got his whiskey, his casseroles, Joe to tend the animals. He pulls the curtains over every window and drinks until he can’t stand. 

  
  


Harry haunts the house. Louis hears him all day, interrupting the silence and dark. Hears him in the bathroom in the morning, brushing his teeth. In the kitchen, starting the coffee maker. In the living room, snapping and folding the laundry. On the front porch, talking to his hanging plants.  He can’t stop himself when he hears it, knows he’s not really there, that he didn’t really come back, but he’s got to look. He’s got to check. Drunkenly stumbling from room to room, chasing the echos of what used to be. Going crazy. 

Louis takes out every vinyl he has, scatters them across the living room floor. He cranks the record player and lets the music drown out the memories of the sounds. Some songs are recent, some came out when his Daddy was a boy. As he wanders the house, whiskey in his glass spilling haphazardly in a trail behind him, he remembers the words, the melodies. But he can’t sing them. Harry took the music with him. Harry took everything. 

  
  


On the fifteenth day without Harry, Liam and Niall get tired of climbing over empty whiskey bottles, and decide to call in the big guns. 

Zayn finds Louis sitting on the kitchen floor, braced against the cabinets. A half empty bottle of whiskey to his right and a casserole dish in his lap. Their eyes meet, but neither one of them speaks as Zayn circles the island and takes a seat on the floor across from Louis. From inside his jacket pocket, he produces a rolled up joint. Still forking green bean casserole into his mouth, Louis watches him pat his pockets for his lighter. Zayn finds it, in the same pocket where the joint was. It’s always there, he never looks there until last, but it’s always in there. He takes a long pull and tilts his head back, sending the white smoke billowing up over their heads. 

Harry’s a stickler for smells, the smell of the house specifically. He always buys the same fancy expensive candles, only uses one laundry detergent. You would imagine that he would hate when Zayn smokes. But, he doesn’t. He loves the smell that lingers, always comes sniffing around. He would love the smell now. He’s not here now though. 

Taking another drag, Zayn speaks through the exhale. “You smell like shit.” 

Shrugging his shoulders, Louis keeps on eating. He hasn’t showered since Harry left, since before Harry left actually. His hair is greasy, his white t shirt littered with stains. Who the hell cares? He finishes the casserole and tosses the dish on the floor. Tilting his head back against the cabinets, he closes his eyes. 

“How drunk are you?”

“Not enough.” 

Zayn nods his head and takes another drag. He kicks his foot out and nudges Louis’s knee until looks at him. Holding the joint out, he gestures towards him. 

“Take this. Let’s get you high and in the shower.” 

Louis shrugs, cause why the fuck not, and takes a hit. It’s been months since he smoked, so almost instantly he feels floaty. It’s different than drunk, better. Like he’s leaving everything behind instead of steeping in it. Zayn lets him take a few more hits before he drags him up and into the bathroom. Lost in his haze of weed and pain, Louis hardly notices Zayn undressing him pushing him into the shower spray and dumping shower gel all over him. 

He sits on the floor of the shower, with Zayn on the floor of the bathroom next to the sliding glass door. He’s probably getting splashed, but he doesn’t leave him. When he pulls him out and wraps him in a towel, Louis’s fingertips are pruny, but he smells a hell of a lot better. 

In the bedroom, Louis sits on the edge of the bed while Zayn finds him something to wear. He realizes his mistake instantly when he pulls out a sweatshirt and Louis curls in a ball. Harry’s, that’s Harry’s. Left behind, but still Harry’s. 

They get through it, and end up on the porch together. Zayn’s got a cigarette but he’s somehow convinced Louis to drink a cup of tea. For the first time in a while, Louis starts to feel like a human. It hurts. 

Zayn takes a drag of his cigarette and rolls it between his fingertips. “So, what are you going to do?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” This ain't fucking Oprah, he’s not gonna sit out here and have a talk about his fucking feelings. 

“Looks to me like you’re set on drinking yourself to death.” 

 

Louis snorts and rolls his eyes. “Very funny.” 

 

Zayn leans forward and tilts his head, looks Louis in the eye. “Is it?” 

 

They hold each other’s gazes, staring grimly at each other. Louis is the first to break. He looks down at the tea in his hand and takes a sip. It’s the cinnamon one, autumn spice or something. That’s not right.  Harry doesn’t like it to be used until September. It goes back out of commission the day after Thanksgiving, when the Christmas music starts. Harry’s not here. 

 

“What should I do?” The weed seeps into his voice, mellows it out.  Doesn’t let it  crack and splinter. “What the hell am I supposed to do? If you got a handbook, right now would be a hell of a time to pull it out.” 

 

Zayn contemplates for a minute, pulling on his cigarette and watching the sun sink in the sky. 

“Well, it’s Harry.” 

Louis turns to stare at him. When Zayn says nothing else, Louis smacks his hand on the arm of the chair and leans towards him. 

“And you mean to tell me they passed over you for this year’s Brightest Man of the  South award?” Scoffing in mock disbelief and throwing up his hands. “You are the sharpest tool in the shed, I’ll tell you what.” 

Zayn sends him a bland look and gives him the finger. “I’m saying, Harry’s important to you. Important to all of us, but most important to you.” He looks down at his boots, uncharacteristically reticent. “If it was Li?” He pauses and Louis doesn’t push. They don’t really talk about Liam and Zayn, none of them. It’s just, they don’t. 

Zayn takes a breath and runs his fingers through his hair and then leans back in the rocker, looking Louis in the eye. “If it was, I would fight.” 

Louis sucks in a breath and looks down at this tea. The tears fall hot and fast, creating small circle ripples at the surface. 

Zayn stays. 

  
  


The sixteenth day without Harry, Louis stops drinking. Zayn helps him reorganize the record collection and throw out all the empty bottles. They get high on the back porch and chat with Joe for a while when he pulls up in his old, beat up Chevy. 

When the mare screams from the field, mistaking Joe for Harry, Louis goes into the kitchen and crumples on the floor. 

Zayn stays. 

 

Louis is starting to get it together, starting to be able to see past the pain and think about something else for more than five minutes at a time. He cleans the house, opens the curtains. Makes him and Zayn some eggs and toast without burning the house down. He’s doing pretty well on the 20th day without Harry, when Lottie calls. 

It’s closing in on midnight when he hears his phone buzzing on the counter and he’s genuinely confused as he heads over to get it. The boys are usually asleep by now, and have been checking in with Zayn anyway, so who in the hell would be calling. When he sees her name flash on the screen, he picks up frantically. 

“Hey, Lots. Everything all right?” 

There’s a pause that makes Louis’s stomach flip and he grips the phone tighter. 

“Yeah, hey Lou. Yeah, I’m fine.” She sounds hesitant, but not hurt or upset. So he waits.

And waits. 

“Uh, Lottie. There a reason behind this call or are we just shooting the shit here?” 

She sighs impatiently and it makes Louis smile a little, despite himself. 

“Don’t freak out Louis. Can you promise you won’t freak out?” Her tone takes on a whining edge and Louis narrows his eyes. Zayn looks at him from over the back of the couch and tilts his head questioningly. 

“No.” 

“Ugh. Figures. Okay, um. I came to the bar tonight.” 

Louis’s stomach plummets uncomfortably. He’s been avoiding thinking about the bar since Harry left. Avoiding thinking about Harry there, laughing joking with the patrons. Doing God knows how, while he’s stuck at the house, drowning. 

“Uh. Alright?” 

Lottie must not be able to handle the tension anymore, she blurts it out so fast he would have missed it if he hadn't been listening so carefully. 

“He’s got someone here. A guy. A guy is here with Harry. He’s. I think they’re dating.” 

The phone drops on the floor. Louis looks at it for a second, doesn’t understand what's happened to his fingers. Zayn stands up and walks towards him slowly, approaches him like a caged bear. 

“Get the fuck in the truck Zayn.” 

  
  


Going back to the bar for the first time would have probably been a debilitating, painful experience, if Louis wasn’t pumped full of jealous rage and mad enough to spit. The parking lot is full when he pulls up, he’s halfway out the door and striding towards the front door before the engines had a chance to fully shut off. Zayn lights his cigarette and follows behind a leisurely pace.  

Over the noise of the music and the liquored up conversations, no one seems to notice the front door slamming open and bouncing off the wall.  Harry’s behind the bar, facing away from him. For a second, the anger melts away and Louis is doused in the overwhelming need to run his fingers through Harry’s curls, breath in his scent. 

Zayn pushes through the door and draws his attention away for a second. When he looks back, he sees red. Harry’s turned back around now, listening to a man at the bar with a patient smile on his face. Mystery man is leaning forward on his elbows, tilting his head at Harry, trying to keep his attention. Louis’s eyes sweep over the guy. Khakis. Who the fuck wears khakis. 

Zayn reaches to his right and grabs a beer out of a guy’s hand and gives it to Louis. Louis tips it at the unwilling volunteer and takes a gulp. Bob’s always been a good guy, shit taste in beer but a good guy. 

Holding the neck of the beer bottle between his fingers and swinging it in a miniscule circle at his side, Louis raises his voice over the noise. “Never took you as one to go for a city slicker, Styles.” Harry’s head snaps up and he stares daggers at Louis. Anger radiates off him like steam. Harry hates a scene. Dark pleasure in seeing Harry riled up urges Louis on. “I guess to each his own though, right.” 

Harry stands completely still, save for the tremble of anger that courses through him, and silently tracks Louis’s movement through the room to the bar top.  Sidling up to the stool next to the stranger, Louis takes another sip of beer and cocks his eyebrow at him over the bottle. 

“Hands look mighty soft there, pal.” His anger is simmering under the surface, waiting to strike out. On the exterior, he’s just having a nice chat.

“And you are?” City slicker is right, northern too by the sounds of it. He’s got a button up shirt on top of the khakis. And something in his hair that’s flaking white at the tips. 

“I’m great. Kind of you to ask.” Sending him a wink in response to his confused expression, Louis turns his attention back to Harry. He nudges his head to toward city slicker. 

“Bet you get a lot of use out of those pretty umbrellas with this one around.” Harry’s nostrils flare and Louis revels in it. “Yeah, this one looks like he likes an umbrella drink or two.” 

“Excuse me, I don’t know -” 

Louis cuts off the stranger without looking towards him “You’re excused, don’t worry about it.” 

“Does he know how much you like driving the back roads late at night?” Louis watches the tick in Harry’s jaw. Thinks about putting his mouth there. Marking him up. “Doesn’t look like he knows how to drive a truck, might be a problem.” 

Harry stays silent. The bar keeps going, only a couple people paying attention. The noise and music spins around them, but Louis only has eyes for Harry. 

“Does he know how much you love night fishing? Bet he can’t even bait a hook.” He turns and leans on the bar, faces City Slicker. “I’m sure he knows how to throw out a line though.” 

City Slickers face goes brighter than a tomato. He stands up abruptly and Louis smiles smugly. Come on then, let’s see what ya got. Harry finally makes a sound, muttering Jesus Christ as he takes in the scene. 

“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.” City Slickers voice carries over the bar and people start to turn. “But, obviously Harry here doesn’t want anything to do with you.” When he makes to push at Louis’s chest, his head snaps back with the force of Louis’s fist cracking into his mouth. He crumples like a ragdoll on the floor. One of the patrons, Lucy from the farm down on Oak, steps over him on the way to the bathroom and pats Louis once on the arm in greeting. Everyone who had stopped to watch the show turns back and continues on talking and drinking. 

Zayn whistles low from behind Louis and maneuvers over so he can lean over the unconscious man. 

“Well, I’d say you knocked his teeth so far down his throat, he’s gonna have to spit ‘em out single file.” 

Wiping the blood off his knuckles onto his jeans he turns and looks at Harry. He’s made no move to help the man on the ground, doesn’t seem concerned about him at all. Just stands leaning against the counter with this arms crossed over his chest. 

“You done, or should I go get the ruler from the back so you can compare dick sizes?” 

For a beat, the men stare at each other in silence. Louis wants to grab him by the head and drag him over the counter. Kiss him until his knees melt, fuck his brains out. He stands his ground. 

Harry moves suddenly, yanking a beer from under the counter, he slams it down in front of Zayn and sails out from behind the bar, through the swinging door of the kitchen. Without a moment’s hesitation, Louis follows. 

The cook is alone, standing next to the fryer, looking tired and a just a little amused. Louis sends him a wave while marching through the kitchen and pushing through the office door that’s still slowly closing. 

He grabs Harry’s wrist a second before it collides with his face, but doesn’t react in time to catch the other as it swings around to get him in the chest. Groaning through the pain, Louis gets a hold of him and spins, pinning him to the door. Slams his hands over his head. His heart hammers against his chest, bloods rings in his ears. Harry’s eyes are so fucking green, his lips are so red, and he’s so fucking pissed. 

“You have no fucking right to come in here and beat on my fucking customers.” The anger makes Harry’s voice wobble, but the venom still drips. He’s trembling in Louis’s hands, would tear him to pieces right now, given the chance. Because he must be really fucked in the head, Louis’s dick starts to take notice. 

“I’ve got every goddamn right to defend myself.” Louis’s voice is much more even than Harry’s, but only because he’s working so hard at it. Pride is a hell of a thing. “You wouldn’t have a problem with it if he wasn’t so eager to get into your pants.” 

Harry narrows his eyes at that and shakes his head at him, his nostrils flare and now Louis’s dick is a lot more than a little interested. Harry’s got to feel it where it’s pressed up against his thigh. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Richard is here visiting family and he was just minding his own business. My job is to speak to people.” He’s still spitting mad, Louis can tell, but now he’s speaking slowly. Like Louis is a child. Fucking dick. 

“He wants in your pants.”

“No. Not everyone wants in my pants.” Louis’s not in the mood for a fucking argument, he knows what he saw. Unthinkingly, he squeezes Harry’s wrists, probably bruising them. Tries to get him to just shut up and listen. Instead, Harry snaps his eyes closed and rolls his hips forward. A second later, he gets a hold of himself, but the damage is already done. 

Louis roughly maneuvers Harry’s wrists into his left hand and with his right, reaches down and presses into the line of Harry’s dick in his jeans. Harry hisses, but doesn’t make to push him off. That’s all the invitation Louis needs. 

“ _ Richard  _ wants what’s mine.” Harry’s knees buckle slightly and he slides down the door just enough for Louis to lean forward and speak directly in his ear. Whispering to him while popping his button and pulling down his zipper. Getting his hand around him. “This, this is mine. Isn’t it H.” 

Harry’s trembles are different now, the flush hot on his cheeks feels like it’s burning Louis alive where their faces are touching. 

“Not yours.” His response is cut off by his own gasp when Louis uses the slick at the tip of his dick to make the slide smoother, twisting at the base. “Not yours anymore.” 

Louis feels his heart rip into pieces and fall to Harry’s feet. Harry’s wrong, he’s wrong as hell and Louis’s going to prove it to him. He’s going to fix this. 

Thumbing his head along the vein along the underside of Harry’s dick, he bites his lip in response to the whine Harry lets out. He watches his face as he strokes him, listening to his harsh breathing and squeezing his wrists punishingly when he makes to twist away.  Watches him fall apart, knows exactly when he’s close. 

“Always, mine.” The broken tone of his voice makes Harry turn his face away, close his eyes. “Look. look at me.” 

When Harry meets his eyes, the sheen over the beautiful green almost kill him. He brushes his lips over his mouth, holds his gaze.

“I love you. I’m gonna get you back. You have always been mine.” 

With a sob, Harry comes between them, slamming his head back against the door and arching beautifully. Louis reaches over to the desk and grabs a dish towel off the pile and wipes him off while he’s still coming down. He pulls him away from the door and swings it open, turning back to look at him in the eye.

“Wild fucking horses, Harry.” 

  
  


There’s a distinct difference in the bar crowd when they’re filling in after the rodeo’s let out. They’re all dirtier than usual for one thing, covered in a film of arena dust that turns their boots a copper color. They’re rowdier too. High on adrenaline from watching men risk their necks on top of broncs and bulls. 

He watches them now, from his place behind the bar, drying glasses with a dish towel. Out of pure habit, when the first dust covered man walked in the door, Harry had gone into the kitchen and fixed a plate for Louis and left it warming under the lights. When he realized, after walking back behind the bar, that Louis wouldn’t be showing up and sniffing around for food, his knees threatened to buckle. Habits like the ones he has, they take a while to form. They’ll just take a while to break. He’ll be alright.  

Two men sit at the bar and pull him from his internal pep talk. They’re strangers to him, at least he can’t remember ever meeting them, probably passing through town with the rodeo. Stopped for a drink and something to eat before moving on. How many bars did Lou sit in, drinking and bullshitting while Harry waited at home, scared to death? 

They order their beers with a smile and Harry serves them and returns to his work. The bar’s neat, always orderly. But, he’s been keeping it spotless lately, cleaning filling up every free second of his time. It’s better that way. The men continue their conversation and a bit of it carries over to Harry and snatches his attention away from the task at hand. 

“Well, I’ll tell you Joe is as happy as a pig in mud. Thinks he’s finally got himself a chance at winning next season. Tommo’s owned the scoreboard for so long, I don’t know if they remember how to write anyone else’s name on the belt buckles.” The first man chortles at his own humor and smacks his hand on his thigh.

Neither man notices Harry turning and staring at them in confusion. The second man nods his head and takes a deep pull of his beer. 

“Can’t figure out why he’s leaving the circuit. Unless that last hit with Beau did him in worse than we all thought. He’s still young, what’s 25..26?” 

“Yeah, 26 I’m thinking. It’s a waste of talent, that’s for damn sure. Never seen someone stick a bull like Lou. Never in my life.” 

Harry’s hands are shaking so hard, he puts the glass down quickly before it meets an untimely death on the bar floor. Just as he takes a deep, steadying breath, the door swings open and Niall steps in, sporting his usual smile. 

“Niall!” Harry’s shout startles the men sitting in front of him and one starts to choke and sputter over his beer. While his friend pats his back, Harry sends him an apologetic grimace. From the door, Niall freezes comically and swings his head left and right. Looking, like he’s literally trying to find the fire. Harry throws down the dish towel and motions Niall over urgently. Walking around the bar, he meets Niall half way through the room. 

“What the hell’s going on, Haz. You look like someone set your ass on fire.” Niall looks further bewildered when Harry grabs his arms and gives him a shake. 

“Niall, you are tending bar tonight.”

Niall’s eyebrows threaten to meet his hairline. “I am?” 

Harry nods his head once firmly, and turns Niall, pushing him towards the bar. “Just give the nice people what they want and take their money.” 

Niall stares at Harry’s retreating back in disbelief and turns to look at the mystified men at the bar. Harry sails out of the front door and then back in a second later to jog over to the bar, lean over and grab his keys. Once more, he marches through the door and Niall hears the truck start. Five seconds later Harry comes barging back in, a little out of breath.

“No drinking, Niall!” He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s back out the door. 

Niall counts to 30 before walking behind the bar and opening up a beer. He smirks at the men at the bar. 

“What he don’t know won’t kill him. Another round boys?” 

  
  
  


When the construction crew drew up the plans for the wrap around porch for the farmhouse, Harry had insisted on french doors in the bedroom. Louis had tried to talk him out of it, weren’t the Mexican resort fans enough of an additional expense? But, Harry is as stubborn as a bull on his best day, so he got his way. 

The bedroom’s at the back of the house, facing the fields of green during the day and fireflies at night. It’s a private, quiet view. It’s there that Louis sits now, on one of the soft couches Harry brought home, coffee in his hand. Waiting. 

He hears the gravel kick up and fly away from too fast moving tires. In his mind’s eye he watches Harry lope across the driveway and, right on time, he hears the front door bang open. He doesn’t call for him, Harry, as he walks the house. Louis can hear doors open and shut, the tap, tap, tap, of his work boots making their way across the hardwood floors. 

He knows when he gets to the bedroom, can feel his presence. Swears he can smell the flowery shampoo he uses in his hair. His shadow falls over him from the doorway, and he lets the the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

Harry doesn’t come to him, instead walks across to the railing and faces Louis, staring. He’s working hard to keep his face blank, Louis can tell. But his body gives him away. The way his chest is heaving, his knuckles press white against his skin. The way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows compulsively. 

Louis waits. The air around them crackles, sparks and flashes of lightning swirling in the space around them, between them. Harry’s body leans in on it’s own accord, with each passing second his posture pulls towards him. 

Harry licks his lips and clears his throat. “You quit.” It’s not a question, but Louis nods in confirmation anyway. 

“Hung up my chaps.” Louis watches Harry’s face closely, notes the way his eyes darken. That’s interesting. “Left it all behind.” 

Harry’s feet move now, shuffle forward a step before he stops himself. Louis leans back against the back of the couch and props his ankle over his knee. Harry’s eyes track the movement. He’s still not speaking. 

“Told them it’s my time to hang my hat at home.” Harry looks pained at that. He’s breathing audibly now, clenching and unclenching his fists. A dumb turn of phrase like that shouldn’t be getting him going, but Harry’s always been a bit of a strange bird. 

When Louis takes a sip of his coffee, Harry seems to remember himself. 

“Why.” His voice is little more than a whisper, so he tries again. “Why, why now? After all this time.” 

He sounds like he really doesn’t know, or maybe he doesn’t want to believe it. Either way, Louis is surprised.  He tilts his head to the side and smiles, bemused. 

“I’d do anything to keep you.” He keeps his voice clear, genuine, can’t back down without Harry understanding. “I’m sorry that it took you leaving for me to get it, but this life is not worth living without you in it. Nothing is worth it.” 

Harry sobs quietly and rushes forward to bridge the gap between them. Grabbing the sleeves of his old t shirt, he hauls Louis up of the couch and pushes him up against the wall. He kisses him punishingly, teeth scraping and biting. Louis gives it back tenfold, laces his hand in the back of Harry’s curls to change the angle. When Harry starts to whimper and grind forward, Louis pushes him back and drags him through the french doors. 

Walking backwards, Harry tilts his head to the side while Louis sucks on every bit of skin he can reach, marking him up for every minute he was away. When Harry’s knees hit the bed he simply tips backwards and Louis follows him down, never moving his mouth from his skin. Harry arches off the bed, searching for friction, ripping at Louis shirt. When Louis nips at his ear, he gasps loudly. 

“Tell me, Lou.” He sounds desperate, like he does when he’s about to come, God Louis wants to hear him come. “Tell me.”

Louis takes a steadying breath and brings his hand up to grip Harry’s chin. He turns his head and stares Harry in the eye, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip. Harry stares back. 

“Wild horses Haz. Nothing could keep me from you.” He kisses him gently once and presses their foreheads together. “Not even wild horses.” 


End file.
